


Pain That's Shared

by spoowriterfic



Series: Beyond the Darkness Waits the Dawn [1]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 04:57:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16361255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spoowriterfic/pseuds/spoowriterfic
Summary: Set after a hypothetical resolution to the season 3 cliffhanger. Wynonna helps Nicole face her pain about what happened.Note: this is now (as of July 10, 2019) the story in a series. If it shows up as new or edited, that's why. The text hasn't changed.





	Pain That's Shared

**Author's Note:**

> * Why, yes, I did go back and edit the title after I noticed a typo this morning. That will teach me to upload something at 11:00 on a Saturday night after a long day of adulting that included falling off a step-stool into my kitchen sink. *facepalm*
> 
> When I first started writing stories about this show, I never would have predicted that my favorite pair to write for would be Wynonna and Nicole, but here we are.
> 
> Being that this is set after a hypothetical resolution to the season 3 cliffhanger, there are (actually rather vague) spoilers up to the end of season 3 here. There is, however, very little in the way of speculation about a possible solution here because that's not really the point of this story.

Waverly and Doc had been back for eight days and eleven and a half hours when Wynonna found Nicole drunk in the barn in the middle of the night.

Nicole had been solid, dependable, determined, and totally cut off from her emotions the whole time Waverly was gone. She had been Wynonna’s rock, even more than Nedley, keeping her from either dissolving into hysteria or from getting so obsessed that she forgot to do mundane things like eat or sleep.

She’d been quietly doting on Waverly since her return, to outward appearances equal parts relieved and happy.

But she’d been falling apart inside.

Wynonna knew.

Broken recognized broken.

She saw how Nicole visibly tensed up any time Waverly left the room, and how she only breathed again when she came back.

She saw the way Nicole picked at her own food even as she encouraged Waverly to eat her fill.

By the eighth night, Nicole – who had yet to spend a single night in her own home – was looking very rough around the edges. Each night, Wynonna stayed up until she could tell both Nicole and Waverly were asleep. She listened, a silent witness, as Nicole’s nightmares – which used to consist of her muttering about smoke and screams – now included broken whispers of Waverly’s name.

She watched and she waited, which was how she’d seen a shaking Nicole slip quietly out of Waverly’s bedroom, grab a bottle of whiskey from the kitchen, and head out into the night.

When Nicole didn’t come back after about half an hour, she walked into the barn to find Nicole sitting in the far corner, an empty bottle of whiskey and four empty bottles of beer on the hay beside her and another bottle of whiskey, half-empty, in her hand.

“Isn’t this my move?” she asked, making a gesture that encompassed the late hour, the barn, and the booze all at once.

“Go ‘way, Wynonna,” she slurred – but there was something brittle in her voice. Something Wynonna suspected she was trying to drown, or at least drown out, with all that booze. Because while she was well aware of the fact that Nicole could hold her liquor, this was a deliberate mission to get blackout drunk.

And Wynonna wasn’t going to have it.

They hadn’t gone through all of _this_ only to lose Nicole to despair now.

“No.”

Anger sparked in Nicole’s eyes just long enough for her to say, “Go. Away,” before it faded back into overwhelming, if belated, anxiety and grief.

“No.”

“Wynonna – ”

Wynonna sat cross-legged facing Nicole who was, she noticed now, still shaking. She reached out a hand, asking silently for the bottle. Nicole eyed her warily but eventually handed it over, though she held out her hand to demand it back as soon as Wynonna had taken a long sip.

“What the hell are you doing?” She’d meant it to sound sharp and authoritative; it came out almost plaintive.

Nicole shook her head. “Don’t.” She began to hyperventilate. “Don’t.”

“I’m just sittin’ here. You’re the one getting shit-faced…when life isn’t a garbage fire for once.”

“Stop.”

“Nicole. She’s back. She’s okay. We’re okay.”

But Nicole just kept hyperventilating in front of her, her face still and set aside from her flaring nostrils. Her free hand was clenched into a tight fist. And Wynonna frankly wouldn’t be surprised if the bottle shattered from the strength of Nicole’s grip – it was as though she was holding onto the bottle on the outside with the same desperation she was holding onto her emotions on the inside.

Wynonna cleared her throat. “You, uh…I wouldn’t have made it if you hadn’t been your usual…” She waved her hand vaguely. “…competent self.”

Nicole’s gasping breaths hitched. Her eyes were filled with tears but she was still refusing to let them fall.

“You don’t have to keep it together anymore if you can’t,” Wynonna said quietly.

“Wynonna. Stop,” Nicole rasped out. “I can’t.”

“You sure as hell can.”

Wynonna watched as Nicole made a last ditch effort to get herself under control – to stem the tide of emotions that was rising up inside and was about to swamp her. “I… _am_ …the rock,” she ground out. “I don’t…need…one.”

Wynonna swallowed, feeling tears prick her own eyes at Nicole’s obvious agony. “I used to think that too. Then Waves gave me a little note from Doc. Four words. And they – they were _good words_. I thought I was ready for anything. I wasn’t ready for good. I fell asleep crying on Waverly’s lap.” She scooted closer to Nicole, who was still breathing in tight gasps. “She gives great hugs.”

“N-n-no,” was all Nicole could manage.

Wynonna scooted closer again. “She’s here. She’s safe. She’s not going anywhere.”

“Stop.”

“No.” Wynonna scooted forward one more time; she was now right next to Nicole – close enough to feel her shaking. “She’s here. She’s safe. She’s not going anywhere. You can breathe now.”

“Wynonna.”

“Nicole,” Wynonna echoed right back at her. “I’m here.” She reached out and stroked Nicole’s hair, much like she’d done after Charlie had saved her, but this time instead of looking comforted by it, Nicole made a harsh, choked sound and shook her head. “It’s okay. She’s here,” she repeated one more time, “and she’s safe. And she’s not going _anywhere_.”

Nicole collapsed in onto herself. “It’s all my fault,” she whispered brokenly, then a frantic torrent of words followed, as though she were trying to expel the thoughts from her brain by putting them out into the air: “If I hadn’t gotten hurt – if Charlie hadn’t – he could have – you shouldn’t have made him save me. Everything – it’s all my fault. It’s always my fault. My aunt and uncle wouldn’t have been there if I hadn’t stayed with them. The Jack of Knives wouldn’t have gotten you if I’d paid attention to the road. And if you had let me go at the cliff, you might have been able to save Dolls. And if I hadn’t drunk that damn drug, I could have been there and maybe I could have stopped the Garden from taking her. It’s – all – my – fault. All of it.”

Wynonna didn’t say anything to refute any of that, even though none of it was actually true. But she knew Nicole wouldn’t hear her right now anyway.

Broken knew broken.

She just kept stroking Nicole’s hair until the moment, between one hitching breath and the next, that she broke with a wordless, anguished moan before she collapsed into Wynonna’s arms, sobbing until Wynonna was sure she was either going to pass out or throw up.

In the end, her hitching sobs eased out gradually until she fell asleep.

Wynonna looked down at Nicole and shook her head fondly, rubbing her back to keep her calm and hopefully keep the nightmares away.  “We’re gonna talk about all that ‘my fault’ crap when you wake up,” she said quietly but firmly.

About twenty minutes after Nicole had drifted off, the barn door eased open and Waverly stuck her head inside. “Shhh,” Wynonna whispered, motioning Waverly close.

She frowned a bit as she took in the sight, then she sighed in relief when she realized what had happened. “Thank you,” she whispered. “She was so scared of hurting me, she wouldn’t let me see how much _she_ was hurting.”

“Sometimes love makes you stupid, Baby Girl.”

Waverly sat down with them, curling herself up against Nicole and wrapping her arms around both of them. “And I love you both. Thank you for not giving up on me.”

Wynonna snorted. “Never.”

“And thank you,” she added, her voice shaking, “for helping her…when I couldn’t.”

“Baby Girl, if I learned anything over the last few weeks, it’s that the three of us are family and nothing’s gonna split us up again if I have anything to say about it.”

When Nicole woke up with Waverly wrapped around her and Wynonna still absentmindedly rubbing her back, she began to cry again, but this time she insisted, “These are happy tears.”

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this story comes from a Mercedes Lackey filk song called "Promise": 
> 
> "Beyond the darkness waits the dawn and after night, the day;  
> And whether you believe or not, it follows anyway.  
> When hope is spent and strength is gone, and choices none or few,  
> There still are friends to turn to who will give you hope anew.
> 
> Beyond all heartaches comes heart's ease, I swear that this is true;  
> And if you put your trust in me, I'll share your pain with you.  
> I'll drink the cup down to the lee, though bitter it may be,  
> For pain that's shared is pain that's halved, so share your pain with me."


End file.
